


Ice and Fireworks

by Hamyheikki



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Christmas Vacation, Domestic, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamyheikki/pseuds/Hamyheikki
Summary: While shopping online, Joan comes across an advertisement for a Yule festival in a small town outside of Paris.It sounds like a perfect way to spend the holidays.
Relationships: Francis Saint-Germain/Joan of Arc
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: SINF gift exchange





	Ice and Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madita1908](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madita1908/gifts).



> A Secret Santa gif for @Angi  
> Hope you like it!

The kicksled flew effortlessly along the small pedestrian street, powdery snow pillowing up in its wake. From her seat, Joan tilted her head back, smirking at the sight of her husband’s panting face.

“Getting tired?”

Francis, with his red cheeks, waved the question off, almost slipping off the footrests in the process. “Not at all! I could go all night.” He heaved out a puff of air and corrected his grip. “On a completely different note: Is the fair site near yet?”

Joan laughed, pulling her phone out. She took her glove off as she leaned to scroll down the screen. “It should be. I think we’re about five minutes away.”

The fact that neither of them had visited this particular little town in the past was a rare treat. With lifetimes spanning over centuries, it was uncommon for an immortal to run into a sight they hadn’t laid their eyes on before. But this town, with its winter festival, has managed to evade both of their attention over the years.

It was... nice.

“Was there a specific time when the event was supposed to start?” Francis huffed, kicking up speed. “Wouldn’t want to be late after all of my hard work.”

Joan scrolled some more. “Doesn’t seem like it. Maybe it lasts as long as there are people remaining on the site.”

It had been a string of luck, actually. While browsing for a present for her husband, Joan had come across an advertisement for an Yuletide celebration taking place in a village some 120 km outside of Paris. After looking for pictures, it became clear the town was practically a winter wonderland. Snow covered trees, intimate boutiques, few people and even fewer tourists. A Christmas market and a firework display at the end of the outdoor event. Perfect getaway. 

She had booked two train tickets right away.

“Oh, I think I see it! Those lights over there?”

Joan lifted her gaze. Indeed, there was a sea of twinkling light wines glowing a short distance away, framing long rows of market booths. There was quite a sizable crowd already, strolling idly between the stalls and eyeing the merchandise on display. Even from where they were, Joan could smell the alluring scents of warm cocoa and fried pretzels. 

It didn’t take them but a minute to reach and stop by the first row. Francis knelt down to secure their sled to a bike rack (it being a rental from the nice hotel they were staying in) and together they made their way past the other couples flocking around the entrance. The fair seemed to take place by the side of a large pit, its walls surging down in a steep angle. There were children sledding down the slope, and in the middle there was a borderless ice ring. 

“Oh, we have to go and skate a bit,” Joan said, her eyes gleaming as she watched the people on ice. “It’s been ages since I last got to.”

Francis smiled. “Fine by me. But should we check out the market first? The pretzel booth is gaining a lot of interest.”

Linking their hands, the two immortals waded through the masses. True to Francis’ words, there were quite a few people already lined up near the food stalls, but after a short wait, a hot pastry was passed to each of them. Joan, not wanting to risk it cooling up, ate hers in three bites, while Francis merely nursed his own, warming it from time to time with a flicker of a flame. There was enough chaos around them to mask his fast use of aura. So much so, in fact, that at one point he nearly ended up knocking over a whole sales desk and the old woman standing behind it. Luck came to the rescue in the nick of time, and he caught himself just before the collision. 

The lady gave him a stern look. “You should be more careful, young man! No good comes from stumbling around like a bull in a china shop.”

Purposefully ignoring his wife’s snicker, Francis offered an apologetic smirk. “Pardon, madam! Rest assured it was not my intention.” His eyes dropped to the table and its decor. “But perhaps fate was on my side today. I can see you’re peddling a rather impressive collection here.”

“Not an entirely lost cause after all,” the woman said, a grin tugging her lips as well. “You have a good eye for crafts, sir. Maybe you’d care to purchase something for your lovely friend?”

“My wife, actually.” Francis never passed an opportunity to declare the fact to the world. “And I think I will!” With steady hands, he lifted a hand-made wreath up, turning it to this way and that, eyeing every side. “You’ve made this yourself?”

“Of course! Everything on this table is crafted by me, or my dear hubby. He wasn’t able to join me here tonight.” She gestured to the swirls of snow trailing down from the sky. “Too much snow, he said.”

“Well I’m sure glad you decided to defy the weather, madam.” Turning slightly, he showed the piece to Joan. “Isn’t it charming?”

Joan, shaking her head, gave her own smile. “You know nothing of crafts, dear.”

“All the more reason to appreciate someone who _does_.” He turned back to the lady. “Is the hook for hanging this up?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, you can hang it to your front door, or to a wall.” She reached a hand out, caressing the leaves she’d wound into the band. “Some folks also bring these to their loved ones graves. It does last longer than a candle.”

“I will take it,” Francis said, hugging the thing to his chest. “How much?”

After handing out the money and getting a paper bag for his purchase, the pair wished their farewells and moved along. There were fewer people now, some having headed off to sit by the tables near the edges of the market, some moving towards the slope and the ice ring. They followed the flow, Joan’s eyes brightening up again.

“Should we skate now?” She peered over the group of teens walking in front of them. “There is a stall you can rent pairs of skates from!”

“Uh, sure.” Correcting his grip of the bag, Francis followed his wife as she skipped her way to the booth where a kind gentleman helped her find the right size for both of them. There was a long wooden bench right next to the ice for the skaters to get ready, and they took seats near the far end. Francis set the bag down and started to pull his shoes off. Next to him, Joan had already pulled her skates on and was doing fast work with the laces.

Francis watched with intrigue. “Well, somebody has obviously done some spins on ice in her youth.” 

“Indeed I have.” With a firm tug, she finished the second skate. “There was a lake near the house I lived at one point. It was part of my morning routine, skating a few laps around the shores.” She stood up and did a little pirouette. Her smile grew instantly wider.

Francis, still wiggling his socked feet in the air, was snapped out of his haze when Joan aimed a sharp gaze at him. “You coming?”

“Umm, yes?” He leaned down, took one of the skates in his hand. Fitted it to his foot. “Uhh...”

Out from the corner of his eye, he could see the smirk replacing the gentle smile. “You _do_ know how to lace these things, right?”

“Why of course I do! I... it has been a while, is all.”

“Sure, sure.” She bent her knees, resting her weight on her thighs. “And you, no doubt, are a natural on ice as well?”

“... I do know how to ski.”

The bubbling laughter did ease his embarrassment a bit. “Francis, my love, _how_ is that the same thing?”

“It’s not. I merely wanted to remind you that there _are_ things I am good at.” He pulled at one of the laces. “Keep that in mind while you watch me reenact a scene from Bambi in a minute.”

Chuckling, Joan knelt down lower and took the laces from her husband’s hands. “Allow me. Otherwise we might very well be here the whole day.”

“Don’t you act as though you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

They were halfway done with his left skate when a kid, probably around nine years old, rushed past them and hit the brakes just before the bench. He reached out for a hockey stick, took a glance at them, and stopped.

“Dude? You need your sister to tie those up?”

While Joan was busy masking her laugh into a cough, Francis puffed up with a flush. “This is my wife, I’ll have you know!” His chin went up instantly. “And _I_ happen to be a _very_ accomplished composer!”

The kid frowned. “A what now?”

“ _Composer!_ I make music!” He pulled out a phone, tapping the screen. “Here, listen!”

A track from his newest album played out. The notes were bright and precise, a true melody woved by a skilled mind. Francis was, honestly speaking, quite proud of this one, and based on the way the kid’s face lit up, so was he.

“Ooo! Yeah, my dad listens to that a lot!”

The kid darted off back to the ice.

After getting her bursts of laughter slightly more under control, Joan risked a look upwards. The sight of empty, unblinking eyes brought the waves of amusement back immediately.

“World is a cruel and uncaring place.”

“Now now, dear.” Joan reached up and planted a quick kiss onto the tip of his nose. “ _I_ adore your newest. It has such a catching beat to it.”

Already breaking into a grin as well, Francis swept off a tear of drama. “Thank you, love. Perhaps I shall persist. For _you_.”

With a shared chuckle, Joan pulled him onto his feet, both skates now securely fastened around his ankles. It took a bit of fumbling and a couple of close calls, but within ten minutes they were making rounds around the ring, Joan skating backwards while holding Francis’ hands and tugging him along. The sky above them had turned into a comforting shade of dark blue, the snowflakes floating down softening the deepness of it all. Lights from the market shined their glow onto the ice. It was a curious feeling, being surrounded by other skaters and yet entirely closed off in their own little world.

It was beautiful. 

It was perfect.

A spark of color up high caught their attention. Another followed, and soon the whole sky was lit by the bombardment of fireworks, green, red and yellow. The colors mixed up, exploding outwards, painting the blank canvas of indigo with a new sheet of flash. People oowed and aawed, all heads tilted to gaze at the show, all movement on ice having come to a halt. 

Taking care not to fall over, Francis leaned close enough to wrap his arm around Joan’s waist. She was looking up. His gaze never left her.

“This was certainly worth the trip.”

Her head turned, eyes sparkling with the sky. A warm kiss was pressed against his cheek.

“Couldn’t agree more.”


End file.
